” She said. “That sounds quite absurd,” she answered. Trenchard glanced at the document. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. An Englishwoman. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Ramage talked always about women or some woman’s concern, and very much about Ann Veronica’s own outlook upon life. We can see round them and behind them and through them, and most of us use that knowledge, in the silent way we have, for our great ends. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. So is the roof of the state-room at Hampton Court Palace, occupied by Queen Anne, and the Prince of Denmark.
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